Bustin' Up On The Beach
by Sex. Tennis. And Pandas
Summary: Two of our favorite characters duel on Destiny Islands. The match, however, is only the beginning. First person POV. One shot. PWP. Yaoi. Note: Not for young readers.


**Disclaimer**: If I owned Kingdom Hearts, I'd be the happiest creature to have ever lived. Rather, I most certainly am not. Logically, then, you can deduce that I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

**Author's Quirp**: The title can be traced to the name of the song played in the first Kingdom Hearts when one is in a battle on Destiny Islands. I thought it was fitting.

Enjoy.

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**Bustin' Up On The Beach**

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I can't help it as my face curls up in disgust. So many feelings of pleasure, yet I can't stop the ugly expression. I don't want him to see it; I don't want him to think that I'm making it at what he's doing, because I'm not. I love what he's doing to me now: what he's doing to my body. I just despise the foul odor in the air. I want to blow away that stench of blood and salt water. It's pungent, and it makes my face look so ugly.

I don't want him to think that I'm ugly.

My skin can feel him stop suddenly, and a fresh, chilling sensation comes around my belly button, where the moisture from his tongue-fucking can be felt against the cool night air. His eyebrows form a crease in frustration, and his hand trails up from lightly pinching my nipple to caress my jaw line.

He tells me that such a sour expression should not be on as beautiful a face as mine. His amazing eyes are sad, as though I've disappointed him. I felt heartbroken at one glance into them. He asks me why I look so upset. He asks me if I want him to stop.

My reply of protest is almost too quick, and my already pinked cheeks flush even more at my eager outburst. But I _don't_ want him to stop. I never want him to stop.

He laughs at me, and my groin tingles at the beauty and strength of his chuckle. We're nearly the same age; he's only a few months older than me. Yet still, he's so much more mature. It's as though he's an adult already. His beautiful eyes look so wise. Maybe that's why they're so beautiful.

When he's done laughing, he stares at me for some time, and I become embarrassed, my cheeks flushing red yet again. He mentions something about me having a young face and body, and an innocence about me that makes me seem like just a child. He mumbles this, and says it turns him on. Then his hand runs down my neck and chest, finally resting on my side, just below my armpit. As the hand moves, his pink mouth muscle goes back to diving in and out of the hole in my stomach.

His other hand? His left hand is struggling. Though I can't see it directly, I can see his arm's rough and uneven movements, which should normally be so smooth and graceful. But I know what it's trying, and I cringe at the thought of it. To try to jerk off while lying on your stomach, and with sand constantly blocking your movements: it's impossibly uncomfortable, I should imagine. And just the thought of that, the pain he must be going through with tiny grains of sand grinding against his cock and balls, simply for some pleasure… it turns me on. My own prick jumps a bit as even more blood rushes into it.

It's almost fully erect now, and I can see it against the side of his neck. Yet he pays no attention to it, wanting to first finish completely ravishing my stomach, which he is doing a very fine job of. It feels so good; so nice to have his tongue darting into and out of me, even though it's only my belly. I never want this to stop. I'm afraid that if it does, nothing like this will ever happen again.

Yet not a moment after thinking this, that I want it to be forever, I feel his moist tongue retreat back into his mouth, and he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. Though his shirt and pants are still on, I can see his throbbing cock through his unzipped and unbuttoned fly. Now I'm completely turned on myself, and rather intimidated. He's much bigger than I am, topping my average six inches by a good eight or nine. It makes me swallow hard and stare with wide eyes.

Then I watch as he finishes the job that I was never expecting in the first place. My eyelids part even further as he does the unthinkable; as he crawls up my body, one hand wrapped around his thick member, one finger on that hand brushing off the sand that coats it. Then he bends down and places the head of his dick into my naval. With a swift stroke or two, an arch of his back, and a moan, he's coming all over me.

It had only begun as a duel. We were at the water's edge, using our makeshift swords as weapons. It was sundown, and all the others were back at home, called in for supper by their parents. Yet my mother was out of town, so I was on my own for the night; his parents were drunks, so he was always on his own. We didn't want to go home because we were really into our fighting. We had been going at it for hours on end, and every time we matched up, he would beat me. I just wanted to beat him once; just once. But I couldn't. We must have already matched about a hundred times. I had more bruises than I could count, while he may have been tapped by me once or twice. I remember him warning me to give up for the day. I remember him telling me that I was too fatigued to have a comeback now. But I wouldn't retreat. I went for him once more. I leapt at him with the last of my strength, bringing down my wooden sword, attempting to bring it down on his shoulder. Yet he was too quick. He side-stepped me and brought his own blade down, just as I had rolled onto my back. His blow tore open my jumper, and it cut through my skin as well. There wasn't too much blood, but enough to paint the white sand red in certain spots.

That was how it began. He instantly threw down his sword, kneeling at my side. The coolest thing about him was how he never apologized; he just tore off some more of my jumper, then pressed the cloth onto my wound to stop its bleeding. After the flow had ceased, I tried to stand up. But he wouldn't let me. Instead, he asked if I was okay, then pushed me back down further. He shoved his lips to mine, then removed me of my jacket. Next came my belt, gloves, and shoes. Then he unzipped my damaged jumper. I never struggled while he stripped me down; not even when he undid his own fly. Truth was, I had always wanted this to happen.

Now he's panting, back on his hands and knees. His cock is hanging limply, covered in his own cum which had been splashed about when he came in my crevice. My own erection possesses a trail of precum oozing down the largest vein on its base, and it's straining with want. My tip is nearly purple with need, and I stare at the other with lusting eyes. Yet the hair in front of his hanging face prevents him from seeing me at first. I make a small noise, and at this, he looks up.

A can see a few of his perfectly white teeth as he grins at me, knowing what I want. But from the look in his eyes, I don't think he'll give it to me; not right away, at least.

He stands up, then removes his jeans and tosses them to the side. He lifts me up, using his strong arms as though I'm no more than a small log that needs moving. When he sets me down, we've got into the water a bit, to the point where I can feel mud on my feet. He puts me on my knees, yet remains standing. We both shiver as an incoming wave touches us: me on my legs, him on only his calves, feet, and ankles. His back is to the ocean, while my own bare ass is facing the rest of the island.

I stare up at him with confused eyes that he calls too innocent to be legal. He then cups my chin with his hand and strokes it with a callused thumb. He calls me a sweetheart, running both hands through my hair until all fingers are gripping the back of my head. Slowly, he moves me forward. My face is at his cock, and with a deep inhale of breath, I finally take in his musky sex: a scent that I had been pining for longer than he could ever know. My own member, meanwhile, is still painfully throbbing, though occasionally cooled a bit by the rhythmic tide.

He tells me that I'm his slut for the night. He says that he wants me to suck his dick just like a good little boy. I don't dare to disobey him.

Yet I shudder before opening my mouth. I feel far too afraid for this. Then I feel the warmth of his thighs and slightly re-risen cock, which is shielding my face from the cold air of the night, and somehow I feel comforted. My lips part, and then give an awkward kiss to the tip of his reddening length. I can hear a hiss of pleasure from his mouth, and it encourages me. With a newfound air of confidence, yet still a good amount of embarrassment and nerves, I start to give my first blowjob.

I intake his entire head, and somehow it seems to fit perfectly in my mouth. My dick is impossibly hard now, and I reach a hand down to help give it release. He tells me not to, and my hand stops moving. Instead, I place my concentration completely on him. I must be his slut. It sounds so right; it would to be his anything, really.

As my mouth moves forward, it takes in even more of his throbbing extension. Soon I've got about three inches in, and I stop before any gag reflexes can come into play. I don't think I've ever felt his heartbeat before. I would have never guessed that I would first feel it this way.

He tells me yes. I release a bit from my mouth, then go back for it again. He's hissing and moaning in ecstasy, and his knees begin to tremble. I reach a hand up and brush it against his thigh. For a while, I run my fingers through and clutch his curly hairs. He keeps his hands on my head, telling me yes. He tells me I'm a good slut.

Then his hips jut forward, and I intake two extra inches. I choke at first, but after a few moments, my throat adjusts. He withdraws, then thrusts again. In the next thrust, he pulls my head forward as well. Now I'm taking in six inches, and most of it is into my throat. Though it hurts, it still feels unbelievably good. I can feel his pulse in my throat, and both of our hearts are beating like wild.

He tells me he's going to come soon. He says not to spit it out. He wants me to swallow it all, and tells me that he'll pull out a bit so it gets on my tongue and I can taste him. I don't dare to disobey him.

We go through our thrusting motions for a bit more, but then we both feel as though we're going to burst. He says that he's coming, and pulls out until only his head is between my lips. Then he throws his head back, his hips a bit forward, and lets go into my mouth.

It's salty, yet sweet. Then there's an extra taste: one that I know could only be him. I down it all in two swallows. He collapses onto his knees in front of me, panting and sweating like mad. I can see him staring at my painfully pulsing dick with his gorgeous eyes, and my own are filled with complete desperation of longing.

You've been good, he tells me. You've been a good slut, and you ought to be rewarded for it, he says.

He kisses me, then draws back to pull off his shirt. Then he stands up again, lifting and carrying me once more. When we stop, he's up to his waist in water. He puts me down, and I can feel soft sand between my toes and cold water all the way up to my naval. We both shiver once more, but are each thankful for there being no waves. The ocean's surface is calm for all visible miles around us.

I don't know what to expect, but I dare not speak.

I hope you're ready, he tells me, because I don't think you can stop me now.

Despite the cold water surrounding us, my cock is still terribly hard. My heart is beating even faster, and I want something to happen now.

The water around him convulses into ripples as he moves toward me. His lips capture my own in another kiss, wet hands rising out of the water to cup my face. We both close our eyes, and passion is felt between us. Yet after a few moments, his strong hands leave my face. Still, our eyes don't open. I can feel his hands brushing against my ass. He pulls away for a moment, saying that I shouldn't be afraid. He tells me not to fight it. I don't dare to disobey him.

It's an odd sensation when I feel water between my ass cheeks. Though I had gone swimming in the ocean nude before, I had never opened myself like this. He bends his knees and slips under me a bit, then maneuvers his arms so that I float up in the fluid around us. When I drift slowly back down, I gasp. Something is touching me, right in the parted cleft of my ass. His hardness has been renewed. I gasp again, and my eyes widen.

We're going to fuck.

He smiles at me, warmly and with comfort. I still feel afraid. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he tells me it'll be okay. He says that he'll be gentle. He tells me this, and he kisses my shoulder, and he calms me down.

He asks me if I'm ready.

I want to nod. I want to say yes.

But I can't.

I want to.

But I can't.

I wake up, and I'm on the Gummi Ship. Donald says we've arrived at Traverse Town for supplies. Goofy laughs and asks if I had I nice dream. Donald tells me I was smiling and moaning, and he says it was disruptive. I try to hide my erection from them, embarrassed. I try to laugh it all off. I say it was nothing.

But it was something.

It was home.

It was him.

Riku.

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I hope you liked it. Please, send a review. It'll only take a bit of your time, and it'll make my self-esteem go up.

Tell me if you'd like to read more of my stuff, would you?


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